I was in my office that night, like every night.
It was where I went to drown my sorrows. Though not in liquor. But in the rain outside the window. I sat and watched it.
I had a decent view of the neon street below. Call girls, criminals, drunks. All lit up red by that motel sign. The rain made them shine.
It was late, but the city never slept.
I lit a cigarette and continued watching. I was halfway through my second when the phone on my desk rang.
RING
"Mista Flint, there's a girl here. Says she needs your help."
"Send her up, Lisa."
"Jerry, she's real pretty."
"I've seen it before."
"Just be careful."
CLICK
I stubbed out the cigarette and sat behind my desk.
Then the door opened.
She walked in wearing enough red to start a fire.
Red dress. Red lips. Red nails.
She stopped in front of my desk and gave me a smile that had probably gotten her out of trouble more than once.
But something was up. She was holding her breath to hide the fact she'd lost it. One hand found the edge of my desk and stayed there.
"Who you trying to impress?" I asked.
"No one." a devilish grin on those red lips.
"You can cut the act."
"What do you mean?"
"The dress, the eyes, that look you're giving me."
I leaned back in my chair.
"Does it usually work?"
"Usually."
She smiled again.
"And on you?"
I looked at her for a moment.
"I'm divorced."
"I see."
She settled into the chair across from me and crossed one leg over the other.
"And how is that working out for you?"
"Swell."
I reached for another cigarette.
"What can I help you with, sweetheart?"
"I've been framed."
"For what exactly?"
"A murder."
"Whose?"
She hesitated.
"Arthur. Arthur Musgrove."
"The Mr. Musgrove, with all the hotels?"
She hesitated again.
"Yes, the same."
"Well, did you do it?"
She had the same look a pretty girl gets when you tell her no for the first time.
"Of course I didn't do it."
"Well then what do you need me for?"
"I need you to clear my name. You see, I don't remember what happened."
She looked down now, slightly embarrassed I think. "It's no secret I didn't like Arthur... But this... I couldn't have done this."
"What do you mean you don't remember?"
"I was in the elevator. I remember that. Then I'm standing over Arthur and he's..."
She pressed her lips together.
"I've tried to remember the part in between. I keep going back to the elevator."
"And when you saw him, he was dead?"
"Yes."
"And you ran here?"
"Yes."
"Swell. Did anyone see you? A bell boy? A receptionist?"
"Yes."
"Oh, that's convenient. And the police?"
She was silent now. And the smile had gone from her, along with her color. Only color left on her was the dress.
“You said you were framed.”
“I was.”
“You remember someone framing you?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because I know I didn’t kill him.”
“Alright. Tell me what you do remember.”
She explained to me all she could.
She'd received a phone call from someone telling her to be at the Tops hotel that night. A man's voice. She didn't know it. Said Arthur wanted to see her. She wasn't sure why. There was bad blood between them. She thought he might have wanted to settle it. Something about Arthur never booking her at one of his hotels.
“The receptionist said there was a call for me.”
“Asked your name first?”
“Yes.”
“Same man on the telephone?”
“Same voice. He told me to meet Arthur in the penthouse at eight-fifteen.”
“Eight-fifteen?”
“That’s right.”
Whoever sent her upstairs had made sure she stopped at the desk.
The last thing she remembered was riding the elevator up. After that, nothing until she was standing over Arthur's body.
Then she ran.
Helluva story.
I picked up the phone on my desk and rang Lisa.
"Lisa, does your sister still have that room available?"
"Don't you even think about stayin over my sister's, Jerry! You hear m-"
"Relax. I need to put our client up for a couple days. Alright?"
"Oh... well alright, I'll let her know."
"And tell her to be discreet."
CLICK
"I didn't get your name, kid."
"Evelyn... Evelyn LeClaire"
It looked like she was about to break.
It clicked for me just then. She was that singer at the swanky jazz club, Freelow's Playhouse. Her name lettered in at the entrance.
"Listen, Evelyn. You're gonna be alright. You're just gonna have to lay low for a couple of days... While I sort this out."
I didn't tell her, but I wasn't sure I believed her.
"I'm gonna need a deposit, kid. If you're gonna hire me."
"No problem, Mr. Flint."
"Jerry's fine. Twenty five dollars, and fifty when it's over. Alright?"
"Okay."
I sent her with Lisa to her sister's. Told Lisa to make sure they weren't followed.